


Morning Comforts

by Aithilin



Series: Dreamwalkers of Eos [2]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Dreamwalking, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-01
Updated: 2017-10-01
Packaged: 2019-01-07 19:46:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12239469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aithilin/pseuds/Aithilin
Summary: There's something to be said about waking up in Nyx's apartment.





	Morning Comforts

**Author's Note:**

> This is part of my [Dreamers](http://archiveofourown.org/works/11301615?view_full_work=true) universe.

“Easy, kitten, easy. That’s it. Slowly.”

“Nyx?”

“Got it, little star,” Nyx smiled above him, grip firm around his wrists, hair as wild as Nyx could be if given half the chance and the right amount of caffeine. Noctis couldn’t help but let himself be distracted by the easy smile rather than the worry in his partner’s eyes. “Come back to me.”

They had been practising. Delving further and further into the dreamscape between them; developing the little gifts granted by a lifetime of association with Carbuncle. Noctis took a shuddering breath, as deep as he could manage until he realised that his hands were clenched and he was pinned. The room formed around him— the little nook where the bed was shoved, frame scraping the wall, the clinks and hums of the fridge in the kitchen only a few feet away, the stale smell of a small room with poor circulation and not enough dusting— and Noct offered a smile as he forced himself to relax in the familiarity of Nyx’s shitty little apartment. Their little haven. “That bad?”

The grip on his wrists eased until Nyx was resting back, thumbs moving in slow circles over his pulse. Noct could still smell the spices from their dinner, the sex in the sheets beneath him, the smells of the streets that managed to climb as high as Nyx’s apartment. Nyx smiled as he eased off; “This is why you’re not allowed to drive, kitten.”

“I just did what you showed me.”

“No, you did what your magic wanted. Magic and dreams don’t mix, Noct.” Nyx finally moved— released Noct enough to sit up. He stumbled as he got off the bed, while Noct pushed himself back to rest against the wall. He closed his eyes and listened to the stead pattern of Nyx walking to his kitchen, of the familiar footsteps and movements and clatter of kettle and mugs and cupboards that seemed to drown out the traffic outside and the life beyond the four walls around them. “You’re distracted.”

The air was stale and Noctis almost wished for the freshness of that dreamscape again. It was Galahd, Nyx had explained. The training grounds where he learnt all his tricks. Where he and his sister used to chase each other through dreams and forests while Carbuncle loaned them the power they needed to navigate. To help. It was the old labyrinthine temple to the little Astral, in ruin now like the others, but still so vivid in their own dreams. Noct wanted to see it again, he wanted to escape the city and see that old forest before it was nothing but cinders and ash under the Empire’s care. He wanted to see where Nyx was made. “I’m distracted because you fucked me senseless.”

“Flattering, but I didn’t.” There was tea, Noct knew there was going to be tea. He hated tea. Most of it with a bite that he didn’t like, others too sharp or too sweet resting at the back of his tongue. Nyx made it because the distaste woke him up more than coffee. “You going to tell me? Or is this going to be one of those ‘mysterious prince’ things that I’ll have to wheedle out of you?”

“Are you sure I’m supposed to even be doing this? This whole dream thing?”

“No.” 

Noct could close his eyes and pretend the water pouring from the kettle after it clicked off was the rain from the dream. It had been too easy to get lost, to just wander and follow the trails of greenery and stone. To slip away from Nyx until there were daemons creeping through the shadows and the forest was cold against his skin. It was easy to slip back to it, to follow the familiar beckons of something darker lurking at the edges of the Astral’s protection. “I saw Ardyn there.”

“I know.”

“Was he really there?” A warm mug was pressed into his hands and a kiss pressed to his forehead. 

“I don’t know, little star. He shouldn’t have been. But then he shouldn’t be able to go walking around in dreams either, so what do I know?”

Noct remembered the strangeness of his dreams from just over a year ago. He remembered the failed treaty, the assassination attempt, saving his father’s life and getting shot for his valour. He remembered his dreams then, where Nyx had appeared like he belonged with a phone and a playful bet for a kiss. Where the claws and darkness shredded the peace of the illusion, and an offer of immortality had weighed him down until he was drowning. Until Nyx pulled him free and helped him find a way out from the shifting landscape and half-memories he had waded through. 

He had been fighting against the current then, now he was trying to control it. Noct made a face at the first sip of the tea. “I hate this stuff.”

“That’s why it works,” Nyx said, grinning around his mug. It wasn’t morning yet, there were still a few hours before the sun rose and the city flared back to life. Before he was missed from the Citadel. “We can try again tomorrow.”

“Today, you mean.”

“No, tomorrow. You need an actual sleep too.”

The world was less formless now, after the tea. The threat of shadows and chancellors and strange long-dead kings dimming as the waking world returned around them. “Are you sure I can even do this? I mean, really do this. Like you can?”

“Of course not, little star. But you were picked for it, and I don’t feel like disappointing a fluffy little god who likes you.”

Noct remembered being a battleground. When his own head was at war with itself— or so it seemed. When Nyx was guiding and Ardyn was damning, when he could barely move without the siren song of Lucian magic calling him deeper and away from the life he had loved. Magic and dreams don’t mix. Nyx had helped him build defences against it all. Against the longing and temptations to stay where reality was broken and changing and begging for his control to reshape it. 

Most of all, he remembered the little chats. He way Nyx always appeared with a gift— the phone, food, the promise of news. He remembered the comfort of Nyx and the softness of him, despite the bravado and image. 

He remembered the kiss. 

“What’s the smile for, kitten?”

“Nothing.”

“Blush too.”

“Shut up.”

He ignored the little laugh that earned him, made a face at the way Nyx set his mug aside and pushed him forward away from the wall. He may have sighed as he leaned back against Nyx’s chest, happy for the warmth behind him even as he sipped at the tea to regain his senses. “What are you doing, hero?”

“Quiet,” Nyx’s hands were in his hair, smoothing out the mess from the restless night, teasing a few pieces apart to twist into a short, stiff braid. “I need to get you a bead or three.”

“What are you planning?”

“Plans.”

“You ass.”

“It’s a nice one, though.” Noct could hear the grin in Nyx’s voice, the teasing, the irreverence he needed every so often. To remind him that he was more than his blood and title and power. “It’s a thing I do. To help with your control.”

“Right.”

“It’ll help.”

“Sure it will.”

“Do you always need to contradict me?”

“Only when I can,” Noct offered a smirk over his shoulder, the teasing cut short by Nyx’s hands moving from his hair and down his chest. 

Around them, the world may as well have been a dream— the hum and pulse of the city streets, the morning noise of the apartments. The city breathing itself to life, even as Noct let his focus narrow to Nyx’s apartment and his warm hands.


End file.
